


The Light In Your Eyes

by dragonpyre



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Post Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2, Whump, just my thoughts, spoilers for Guardians of the Galaxy vol 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-10-30 22:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10886004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonpyre/pseuds/dragonpyre
Summary: After destroying Ego's planet and loosing the only father he had, Peter isn't sure what comes next for the Guardians, or more specifically; for him. He was half celestial. Whatever that was. His dad was sort of a planet, or a god, depending on how you looked at it. He knew that with Ego destroyed, everything about ever being immortal or all powerful was gone, but it was still part of him, wasn't it? Well, for his sake; he hoped not. But when had the universe ever given a shit about what he wanted?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> UGH! That movie! Anyway, this idea popped up in my head and I couldn't leave it alone. Something about the plot and logic of it bothered me, so I'm writing this because I wanted to explore the idea more. Anyway, I hoped you enjoy this! Feel free to leave kudos or comments letting me know what you think. Enjoy!

It was almost funny, in a cruel, sadistic sort of way, that Peter had held each of his parents as they’d died. First his mother, back on Terra, as she’d died of brain cancer. Then Ego, his biological father, when Rocket had detonated the bomb inside the planet's core. And finally his dad, Yondu, after giving Peter the only spacesuit while flying out of the atmosphere of Ego’s dying planet, leaving himself open to the cold vacuum of space. But Yondu wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be.

“Yondu, Yondu cut the shit, man, wake up!” He screamed, clutching onto the older Ravager. He could see his vision growing blurry from the tears welling up in them, but he refused to let them fall. “Yondu, you can’t say something like that and die. You can’t!” He gave the older man a shake, as if it would help. “Yondu!”

He received no response.

“ _Yondu!_ ”

Maybe that time his voice broke. Maybe that time he had started crying. But what did it matter?

He was so caught up in his grief, he hadn’t noticed the ship approaching. Without warning, he and Yandu were suddenly being pulled into an airlock of the craft and dropped roughly to the steel floor. The doors slid shut behind them and then the spacesuit surrounding him shut off, leaving him laying on the cold floor as well.

He didn’t have a moment to process what had just happened before he heard shouting.

“Peter!” He heard someone yell.

He looked up to see Gamora running towards him. Before he could even sit up from the floor, he felt strong arms pulling him into a hug.

“Oh my God,” she breathed into his ear. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Yondu,” he choked out, trying to pull her attention away from him and towards the one who actually needed it. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps, telling him the others were coming. “Yondu, he didn’t have a spacesuit. You guys have to help him.”

Gamora pulled away at his words, looking over to where Yondu’s ice encrusted form lay, as if just now noticing him. Her face went through a myriad of expressions before finally settling on grief. “Oh no,” she breathed.

“Oh no? What do you mean ‘oh no’?” Peter cried, sitting up. “We have to help him, we can’t just leave him like this!”

The others, who had just rushed into the room, viewed the scene before the, and all came to the same conclusion as Gamora had.

“Yondu!” Rocket cried, rushing towards the Ravager. His brown eyes were wide with fear as he crawled over the man, checking desperately for any sign of life. Then he turned to Peter, expression full of dread. “How long were you out there?” He demanded. “Why wasn’t he wearing the suit?”

“I don’t know, he gave it to me. But we have to help him, we have to do something,” Peter said, voice full of emotion.

“I’m trying!” Rocket barked back. “But he ain’t got no pulse, and he ain’t breathin’.”

“Don’t say that!” Peter shouted. “He can’t be dead!” He just found his father, he couldn’t lose him so soon, God damn it!

“Peter,” Gamora tried, trying to pull his attention back to her. Her voice was soft and cracking with emotion as she spoke. “Yondu is gone. I’m sorry. Peter, I am so sorry.”

Peter wanted to shake his head, wanted to fight the facts, but he felt a lump growing in his throat, and the burning in his eyes was getting stronger. He turned again to look at the only man who had ever been a father figure to him in his whole life, and the truth of the situation sunk in like a heavy stone in his gut. Yondu was gone. He had sacrificed himself for Peter, and he had died. His vision blurred with tears, and just like that, all the fight left him, and he slumped against Gamora.

The woman seemed surprised at the sudden change, but quickly grabbed onto him as though he would actually fall if she let go. For all Peter knew, he just might. They stayed like that for some time, while the rest of their small crew helped move Yondu’s body somewhere else. It also allowed the a semblance of privacy, although they didn’t really need it. But for some reason, Peter was glad for it all the same.

“I’m so sorry,” Gamora said, pulling away. “I know you were close to him.”

Peter looked up and met her brown eyes, seeing the emotion he felt reflected in them. “He was my father,” he stated plainly. “My _real_ father. Anyone who plans to destroy the galaxy isn’t a true father,” he said bitterly, referring to Ego.

“He raised you,” she agreed.

“He did more than that,” he said softly. “He protected me from that bastard. I was just cargo, but he chose not to hand me over.” He glanced down, staring vacantly at the floor. “He saved me.”

He felt a hand brush against his cheek, and he looked up. Gamora met his gaze with an expression he hadn’t seen on her before. Tenderness, something motherly. It reminded him of his mom, and for a second, he was back on Terra, having just gotten into another fight with the boys at school, and his mother was giving him one of her soft scoldings. They had never worked, but she had always worn that expression when she’d given them.

But he wasn’t back on Earth. He was in space, having saved the galaxy for a second time, this time from his psychotic father who had only wanted him for his power. A power he might not have even had to begin with. It was sickening really.

“Peter,” Gamora said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad he did it. And I’m glad he did it again. I couldn’t lose you.”

Peter leaned into her touch, closing his eyes to shut out the world. If he tried, he could imagine it was just him and Gamora, alone together. Like they were back on that god forsaken planet, dancing on that balcony. Just the two of them. It was hard to believe that had only been a few hours ago.

“We should go,” Gamora said, breaking the silence that had grown between them. Peter opened his eyes and looked up, nodding his head weakly in silent agreement. The adrenaline from the battle was leaving his system, and after everything that had just happened, the realizations, the deaths, being used as a battery by his father, it was fair to say he was exhausted.

“Come on,” she said, offering him a hand as she stood up. He accepted, following her lead and started to make for the exit when the world suddenly tilted on its side. His head felt like it was floating and black spots danced across his eyes. That wasn’t good.

  
The next thing he knew the floor was rushing up to meet him as someone shouted his name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, another one! This one is much longer, as promised. Enjoy!

Gamora was worried for Peter. When he had collapsed in the airlock, she had thought it was merely exhaustion. And she’d been worried, but not overly so. But as the hours drew on, her nerves grew until it was all she could do not to snap anytime someone made a noise. Now she sat by his side on his bunk and did something she had stopped doing a long time ago. She prayed.

That was how Mantis found her some time later.

“Gamora?” The girl asked, stepping tentatively into the room. Gamora did nothing to acknowledge her presence, so the empath took that as a sign she could enter. Gingerly, as if afraid of her, Mantis sat down next to Gamora, whose expression was hard and fixed on her unconscious friend before her. A moment of silence passed before she seemed to work up the courage to speak to her.

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you,” she said.

A glance towards the girl was the only reaction Gamora gave her. But it was enough to confirm the empaths words.

“If you wanted,” she started. “I could help you not feel as badly as you are right now.”

“I do not need your help,” Gamora bit out, sharper than she had meant. Mantis looked crestfallen and deflated next to her. Her large eyes fell to her lap and she spoke.

“Oh, I simply offered because you seem to be very troubled,” she mumbled.

“Of course I’m troubled,” Gamora snapped, turning to her. She ignored the way she flinched, too strung out to bring herself to care. “My friends father just tried to use him to destroy the universe before trying to kill him. And then his other father dies in front of his eyes. And now he lies here; unconscious, all because of your master and his sadistic nature. So tell me, should I not be troubled right now?”

Mantis looked to be on the verge of tears at the end of her rant, and Gamora immediately wished she could take it back. She opened her mouth to do so, but the empath had already fled from her seat and was out the door before the first word could leave her mouth.

“Dammit,” she breathed, alone again.

She sighed, turning back to Peter. She should have been nicer to Mantis, she knew. But to have someone playing with her emotions, even if she really did need it, she just couldn’t. Not after Thanos, not after everything. Brushing Peter’s hair across his brow, she wished for what seemed the millionth time that he would wake up. But in this state, he seemed to young, so innocent. Not under the burdens he was when he was awake. He didn’t have his usual cocky or sarcastic facade he used when he was unsure of himself or scared that had always made her roll her eyes in exasperation. He wasn’t grieving Yondu, he wasn’t troubled by what his father had done, he was just Peter. Raw and exposed.

She ran her fingers tenderly through his hair again, and suddenly, something sparked under her hand. Bright and sharp.

She gasped, withdrawing her hand quickly. Peter remained unresponsive.

It had felt like a static shock, maybe that was all it was. Frowning, she brushed her hand across his brow again, as if checking his temperature, but really seeing if the shock happened again. Nothing.

Sighing, she leaned back. It could have been her imagination. Nothing more. She’d had a long day after all.

  
  


***

  
  


Peter woke slowly. The first thing he became aware of was how  _ sore _ his body was. It felt like he’d been thrown around and used as a punching bag by a pissed off Drax. His head throbbed weakly in tune with his heart and he was sure that if he sat up, the world would start spinning and whatever was in his stomach would make a one way trip to the floor.

Then he heard the voices around him.

“-Wake up soon, we’re taking him to the Nova Corps.” It was a female voice speaking.

“Yeah, because the Nova Corps will know what to do with someone who just fought a planet,” responded a dry sarcastic voice. It sounded like Rocket, and he sounded angry. “Seriously Gamora, use your head.”

“Well what do you suggest we do, rodent?” The woman, Gamora, bit out.

“Hey, I am  _ not _ a rodent!” Rocket shot back.

Peter decided it was time to say something before any blood was spilt. He didn’t like cleaning it up, after all.

“Guys?” His voice was weak and hoarse, but it managed to shut the two up quickly. Suddenly there was commotion and cracking open his eyes, he saw Gamora, Rocket, a little Groot, Mantis, and Drax all looking down at him with varying expressions of concern and relief. He blinked in confusion.

“Peter, you’re awake!” Exclaimed Gamora, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.

“You seem surprised,” he said, weakly attempting his usual humor. But it fell flat judging by everyone’s faces. He frowned. Why were they all so dower? “What’s wrong, guys?”

Rocket frowned. “Do you not remember?” He asked.

Remember? Remember what? All he could remember was being on Ego’s planet, and him bringing him down to the main hall, and showing him the expansion, and talking about his mom-

“Holy shit,” Peter cried, sitting bolt upright as the events of that day rushed back to him in dizzying speed and clarity. He regretted the action immediately as he was soon leaning over the bunk and emptying his stomach onto the floor.

“Ego,” he coughed out. “That son of a bitch.” He paused, remembering what had happened right before he’d blacked out. Emotion pricked at his eyes and his throat started closing up in grief. “Yondu,” he whispered. The other Guardians didn’t seem to hear him though.

“We were so worried about you,” Gamora said, helping him lay back down. His head was swimming again, so he didn’t fight her. “You were out for a long time. We were about to take you to the Nova Corps if you didn’t wake up.”

“What about Yondu,” he asked, knowing the answer. He still didn’t want to believe it though. He didn’t want to accept it. But one look around the assembled group told him what he needed to know.

“I’m so sorry, Quill,” Rocket offered. “Really, I am.”

“It’s alright,” Peter said, squeezing his eyes shut. “There was nothing you could have done.” Perhaps there had been something that could have been done though. But it wasn’t their fault. It was Peter’s for not realizing what Ego was planning sooner. For falling into his plan. For letting himself be used-

“It’s not your fault either,” Gamora suddenly said, giving his hand a firm squeeze, seeming to read his thoughts. “You wanted to believe Ego was the father you’d never had. How could you have realized?”

“You said it yourself,” he stated dryly. “Something wasn’t right. You knew and I didn’t.”

She didn’t respond, instead loosening her grip on his hand and retracting it. He pretended that the action didn’t hurt somewhat.

“We’re gonna be having Yondu’s funeral soon,” Rocket said, breaking the growing tension in the room. “We figured we should wait until you woke up.”

Peter opened his eyes and looked up towards the raccoon. “Thanks,” he managed. Rocket nodded his head and turned to leave, motioning for Drax to follow him. Mantis tagged along, and before exiting the room, gave Peter once last look of sympathy before following the other two out. That left just him and Gamora in the room together. Alone. Under any other circumstance he would have been ecstatic and ready to use a cheesy pickup line or a quip, but any thought of the sort died on his tongue.

Finally, “I’m sorry.”

Peter turned towards Gamora, frowning at her confession. “For what?” He asked.

“For what I said, back on that planet. About family. I criticized you for wanting to know your father, saying you’d already found your family. And for that, I’m sorry.” She paused. “I was afraid of losing you.”

“Gamora,” she said, shifting somewhat on the bed to get a better view of her. “You’re all still my family. That wouldn’t have changed. And besides, he wasn’t my father. Not really. He doesn’t deserve that title.”

She smiled a small smile, the sight of it lifting Peter’s heart. If only a little.

“You and I have that in common, then,” she quipped.

“Yeah, shitty dads of the year,” Peter scoffed lightly. “That should be a club, in which we’re both card carrying members.” This time her smile was wider, and that made Peter smile in turn.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, giving him a warm look. He offered a reassuring smile in return.

“It takes more than shitty parenting to get rid of me,” he offered.

  
She laughed, and that time, Peter smiled a real, genuine smile. Seeing her happy, even if not completely, made him feel lighter; even in his given condition. Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay after all he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoyed it r have something to say. Ta!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on this story. You're partly the reason I could push another chapter out right now. Enjoy!

Peter still felt tired and weak just walking around the ship. Apparently he had been out for three days before waking up the first time. Only half a day the second time. The third he figured he’d finally have enough energy to get up and be helpful to the crew. He’d been wrong. Just sitting up made him go light headed, and that had forced him back to laying down in his bunk. It wasn’t for another week he could even walk around the ship without a dizzy spell. Not that the act of walking didn’t exhaust him, but his team didn’t need to know that. They were already worried about him enough as it was.

If he was to be honest with himself though, it was worrying him. He’d been in battles before, but never had he been so bone weary afterwards. Not to this extreme anyways.

He stumbled into the mess hall blearily after another rough nights sleep to see Rocket standing on a stepladder next to the counter attempting to cook food, judging by the smell. The others were gathered around the table talking. He walked up to join them.

“So what’s the status on getting back to the _Milano_?” He asked, taking a seat by Gamora.

“Rocket says another day of jumps and we’ll be back on Berhert,” the green woman informed him, scooting over on the bench to allow Peter more room to sit.

“And how much more repairs do you think it will need?” He continued, looking up at Rocket, who’s back was turned to him while he continued preparing breakfast.

“We might just have to take it to an actual shop,” he replied. “Now that we have this big ol’ Ravager ship, I’m sure it won’t be hard to pick it up.” Peter nodded mutely in agreement. He didn’t doubt that Rocket could have fixed up the ship no problem, but after what they’d been through, he understood wanting some time off.

The crew lapsed into silence again, broken only by the occasional hiss of steam from the giant bubbling pot Rocket was fussing over, and the clinking of glasses as people drank. Soon breakfast was served, and it wasn’t half bad. But Peter found it was difficult to make himself eat it. He poked at the meal for a while, managing to shovel some of it into his mouth. But it was tasteless. Just like dinner had been the night before, and the night before that.

“Thanks for breakfast, Rocket,” Peter said, pushing up the table abruptly. Gamora frowned at him, noticing that he’d eaten barely half of his plate. She squinted up at him pointedly as if to chastise him for bolting on them, but Rocket beat her to it,

“What’s the matter, Quill? Ya don’t like my cooking?” Rocket asked, sounding offended. Peter opened his mouth to retort, but shut it, only to open it again.

“I- no, I just-” he floundered over his words. “I mean; it’s good, I’m just not hungry,” he said, trying to sound casual. The crew looked like they all were about to say something, but Peter beat them to it. "Thanks for the meal, Rocket," he said, taking his leave and leaving his team looking at his departing figure with worry in all their eyes.

 

  
***

 

  
"Something's up with Quill," Rocket said, plopping himself in front of the ship's controls. Gamora was standing of to the side watching the raccoon and the ravager, Kraglin, prepare the ship for another jump. A baby Groot was cradled in her arms because he didn't want to be separated from Rocket, as always.

"I agree," she conceded.

"I remember when we first picked 'em up on Terra he was actin' like this," the ravager said off to the side. Both of the guardians looked over to him to listen. "His mom had just died. Poor kid wouldn't sleep or eat or talk or anythin' for a while," he continued. "But he got better with time."

Gamora pondered this.

"But he didn't have anyone then," she worried. "He'd just been abducted. Now he has us, and he is no longer a child."

"I don't think it matters if you're a kid or not. When you lose someone, you lose someone. And that hurts no matter what age you are," the ravager said, surprising both Gamora and Rocket with the wisdom of his words.

"So what do you suggest we do?" She asked. She was worried about the terran- well, half terran- and she didn't want to see him hurting. Because it hurt her to see him hurt. And that confused and scared her, but perhaps that was that unspoken thing he had been talking about. She'd come to admit her feelings over the past few weeks ever since Ego. It had actually been then that she'd known. She couldn't lose Peter. She cared too much.

But she was losing him now. And that hurt more than she'd thought.

"Well," Kraglin sidled, pushing a few buttons on his control panel as Rocket did the same. "Pete's always been a stubborn bastard. But he'll come 'round eventually. Always does."

Gamora looked to Rocket to see if he shared her doubts about what the ravager said, and found that the small creature did, furry eyebrows pinched together with vague emotion. Although she was surprised by the show, she still didn’t find comfort or reassurance from what Kraglin had said. In fact, she had more doubt than ever.

"Alright, starting the jump," Rocket announced, ending the conversation. "And this time, let's keep it under fifteen. God knows we don't need a repeat of that shit-fest."

“I am Groot,” a tiny Groot agreed from her grasp.

Gamora raised a curious, tentative eyebrow at the sapling, and then to Rocket, but remained silent. She figured it was better not to know. For her sake as much as anyone else's. Without saying a word, she slid into a seat off to the side and watched as the gate opened in front of them before the ship's engines whirred to life and they flew through the portal, beginning the last leg of their journey to retrieve the _Milano_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being so short, but I wanted to get another chapter out as soon as I could. Also, feel free to leave kudos or comments if you want, they really inspire me. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GASP* Another chapter? So soon? I know, weird.

Peter woke up on a rocky surface, unsure as to how he'd gotten there. The last thing he remembered was leaving the mess hall and crashing on his bed. He definitely did not make any side trip to a planet. He blinked his eyes to clear them and took in a deep breath to wake himself up more. The smell of smoke and things burning infiltrated his nose, immediately putting him on edge. Scrunching his eyes up, he pushed himself off the ground and tried to get his bearings.  
  
He was in a large cavern, with spires of rock rising and falling around him. It was then he noticed the ground was shaking, small pebbles at his knees  clattering across the rock he was on. Frowning, he looked up again, and almost couldn't believe what he was seeing.   
  
It was Ego's core. Undamaged and glowing.   
  
His blood ran cold. "No," he breathed.   
  
"Oh yes, Peter."   
  
Peter whirled around where he knelt, almost tripping over himself before spotting the one person he'd hoped never to see again. His father.   
  
"No, no," he stammered, getting to his feet to back away. "You're dead, we killed you."   
  
Ego just laughed like he'd told a joke. "Aw, come on, Peter," he chuckled, stepping forward. The action made Peter flinch away and take a step back himself. "You don't honestly believe that. I'm a celestial, I'm light. Light doesn't just disappear. You of all people should know that." His last remark made Peter shiver and stumble back further. Ego was now strolling confidently towards Peter, who was stumbling backwards even more, feet moving quickly to get away from the man- god- planet- whatever, until he felt his heel meet the edge of the rock they stood on. He gulped nervously and swayed to catch his balance.   
  
"I don't know what you mean," Peter said, forcing his voice not to show how terrified he was. "I saw you die. I _felt_ you die."   
  
Ego just smiled mirthlessly, eyes cold as they gazed down at Peter. "You have so much to learn about your gifts," he sneered. Then he pulled his hand up, which was sparkling with blue-white light. Peter barely had a moment to prepare himself as he drew up his own light to block it, when Ego shoved him off the edge and he hurtled downward.   
  
  
  
  
  
Peter gasped sharply and jolted awake. Blue light filled his vision and lit up the room before the sound of something exploding filled his ears. Instinctively, he covered himself as smoke and small bits of debris flew around him.   
  
And then it was quite.   
  
Slowly, he lowered his arms and looked around. He was in his room on the ravager ship. No Ego. No light. Just him in his bunk. It had all just been a dream. But then he looked around and spotted a large, smoking circle on the wall in front of him. What the hell?   
  
It looked like something Rocket would have done on accident while playing with his guns. But Rocket wasn't here, it was just Peter.   
  
Taking in deep breaths, Peter swung his legs out over the bed and stood up, walking slowly towards the wall, where the circle was still smoking and the metal glowed hot from the heat of said explosion. Stepping up to inspect it, he frowned. No one was in here except him. And since there was no impact or exit hole, it hadn't come from outside the room. No, it had come from this one, but how?   
  
Suddenly, his door was bowled open and there stood a worried looking Gamora and Rocket.   
  
Rocket, upon taking in the scene, was the first to speak.   
  
"What the hell happened, Quill?" He demanded.   
  
A pause.   
  
"Something exploded," he said dumbly.   
  
"No shit, Peter," Gamora exclaimed. "How?"   
  
"I don't know!" he cried defensively.   
  
"Well, figure it out then!" Rocket shouted.   
  
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" He shouted back. "I was asleep and then something exploded and this scorch mark was on the wall!"   
  
"What?" The duo asked in synchrony.   
  
"Take a look." Peter stepped aside to allow the two to see just what he was talking about.   
  
They were silent for a moment before Gamora spoke up. "What the hell?" She asked, stepping forward to get a better look at it. "Rocket, did you leave something in here again?" She demanded, turning to face the trigger happy pilot.   
  
"What? No! This is Quill's room. I don't come in here. Don't want to accidentally step in something."   
  
"Really?" Peter scowled.   
  
Gamora ignored the comment and turned to face him. "Do you sleep with your gun? You might have accidentally set it off."   
  
"What? No I don't sleep with my gun."   
  
"What? Really?" Rocket snorted.   
  
"You zip it, fur-face," Peter shot back, pointing an accusatory finger.   
  
"Hey!" Gamora snapped. The two shut up immediately and turned to her, both with almost guilty looks on their face. Almost. "Something exploded in Peter's room and you two are bickering like children.   
  
"I agree," Rocket said almost immediately. Then, in the most fake sincere voice ever, he asked, "Peter, why are you starting to act like me by blowing things up?"   
  
Cue long, drawn out sigh from the other two in the room.   
  
"Okay," Gamora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "So no one knows how this happened. Fine." She paused, thinking. "One of you," she suddenly snapped. "See if you can get a sample off the scorch mark to see if there's any residue from the blast. Maybe you and Kraglin will be able to figure out what it was."   
  
"Wait, why Kraglin?" Peter asked.   
  
"Because I don't trust you two alone together," she hissed, glaring at them. She turned to leave before stopping herself and turning back to them. "And one of you take Groot. Maybe he'll remind you not to do something stupid." Then with a swish of hair, she out of the room.   
  
The pair stood there awkwardly for a moment in silence. Then, "Sample," Rocket announced, hurrying off to get something to collect it with.   
  
  
"Groot," Peter called. And the two went their separate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, mysterious explosion, nightmares, and team tension... Oh boy


	5. Chapter 5

Part of peter had hoped that through all that had happened in the time they'd been on Ego’s planet, the _Milano_ would have been restored to some semblance of its former, working self. But alas, that was not the case, as Peter soon realized upon landing on Berhert.

“Great, I see Rocket didn't fix it up,” he grumbled from where he sat.

“I can't believe you two are still at each other's throats,” Gamora sighed off to the side.

“Hey, he blew up my room,” Peter snipped, eyes and hands on the _Eclector’s_ controls as he loaded the ship to the ground.

“We’ve already established Peter,” she said. “It wasn't Rocket.” As far as they could tell anyway. They’d stayed up all night trying to figure it out, but to no avail.

“Then what was it?” Peter shot back.

Another long sigh escaped Gamora, and Peter could tell without looking she was giving him the stink eye. “It was your room, if anyone knew what happened, it should be you. The blast came from inside after all.”

Peter rolled his eyes tiredly as he set the ship down and powered of the engines. Unstrapping his seatbelt, he turned to Gamora, who was sitting idly in her seat, fiddling with her blade. “And I was asleep, I told you that. So I wouldn't have seen it. Which puts us back to the blame game.” He stood up and stretched, offering her a hand, which she took. “And I blame Rocket.”

Another eye roll. Peter was certain if she did it anymore her eyes would freeze in that position. It's what his mother had always said would happen when he did it.

“Let's just get the ship and head to the nearest junker to fix it,” Gamora said tiredly before following him off the bridge.

The rest of the team was waiting in the hanger to help pull in the _Milano_ , and they did so without too much bloodshed. Mostly just curses thrown around from Rocket and Drax being most unhelpful. They eventually got the ship in and took off, and by that point, everyone was too tired for anyone else and settled to eat on their own and rest.

Peter sat in his quarters, fiddling with his new Zune and staring absently at the scorch mark on the wall. They’d ran whatever tests they could and studied it to the best of their abilities, but the only conclusion they could come to was “who the fuck knows”. It didn’t have any residue like a shot from a standard blaster would have, and the melted metal suggested an extremely hot temperature, because the walls of the ship were built to withstand such extremes. Which is why Peter blamed Rocket, but the blasted Raccoon  _ insisted _ it wasn’t him. So it put them all back to square one.

“Alright, how we doin’ this, Quill?” Kraglin asked as Peter joined the rest of them in the docking bay.

“Carefully, I hope,” Peter sighed, checking over the controls for the bay door before pressing some buttons and opening them. Bright morning sunlight shone into the ship from the outside, making all of them squint. “But whatever you do, just try not to break it any further,” he warned.

“I don’t think it really matters, at this point,” Rocket sidled, hopping out of the ship and looking back up at them expectantly. “Ship’s so trashed I’d just get a new one.”

“Hey, that’s my ship we’re talking about,” Peter shot back, following the raccoon down off the ship, Drax, Kraglin and Gamora following right after. Mantis was still aboard, insisting she wouldn’t be of much help and would only get in the way of the process. That also meant she was babysitting Groot.

“It’s not like they don’t come in spades or anything among you Ravagers,” Rocket said as the team started to pick their way through the forest towards the decrepit ship.

Peter just rolled his eyes and trudged forward. There was no point explaining sentimentality to a kleptomaniac rodent.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he sighed wearily. The sooner it was fixed, the better.

  
  


***

  
  


Overall, the process took a few hours longer than Peter had hoped it would. Of course, he hadn’t really had an expected time limit in mind, but he felt it would have been shorter than what they’d managed. It took some time, and swearing, but soon the _Milano_ was on board and they were headed away from the planet and towards the nearest place that could fix up a ship, but happened to be a Xandarian outpost. A small inhabited moon orbiting a gas giant only two jumps away. Peter set the coordinates and they were soon off, Berhert becoming nothing but a speck behind them.

Peter was sitting in the bridge when someone called his name.

“Peter?” It was Mantis.

“Yo,” he called back, showing he was listening.”

The young girl came forward and sat next to him, holding herself awkwardly, as if she wanted to ask or say something she wasn’t sure how to approach.

“What’s up, Mantis?” He asked kindly.

“I was just wondering, that explosion in your room last night…”

“What of it?” He asked.

“Before it happened, what were you doing?” She asked. Peter frowned in confusion. That was an odd question to ask.

“Um, just sleeping,” he told her. “Why?”

“Oh, she said, casting her eyes downward in apparent disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to her.

Mantis looked up and met his eyes with her own black ones. “It’s just, when I was with my master- your father, sometimes, when he was very angry, or upset, he would lash out with his powers. I was only wondering if the same thing could have happened to you, and that was what caused the explosion.”

Something clenched in Peter’s gut at the mention of his father, and he had to force himself not to grimace in front of Mantis, afraid she would take it as a slight against her, and not his father. “Mantis, I don’t have those powers anymore,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “When Ego died, that was that. No more light.”

Mantis frowned as if his answer didn’t quite make sense to her, but nodded anyways.

“I suppose you could be right,” she conceded. “I’m sorry if broaching this topic has caused you pain.”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly.

Again, Mantis frowned, but nodded anyway. She stood up and made to leave, before stopping and turned to him again, eyes full of sympathy.

“If you ever need my help dealing with your grief, you can come to me if you want,” she offered.

Peter’s lips quirked up in an almost smile, partly amused and partly upset she’d noticed how he was taking everything lately. But he also knew she truly only went well. And since they were basically siblings, her being raised by Ego, and he being his actual son, he couldn’t help but love her.

“Thanks Mantis,” he said, meeting her gaze. She nodded and started walking away. She was almost off the bridge when Peter turned around in his seat and called back to her. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you're here.”

  
Her smile in return was so genuine and innocent, she might as well have used her powers to make him feel lighter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you to everyone who have left kudos and comments, I love each and every one of them. Enjoy!

“Alright a-holes,” Peter said over the loudspeaker. “Welcome to Athgar five, fifty moon of the Athgar gas giant and also a Xandarian outpost, so behave. Get ready to land fellas.”

Peter leaned away from the comm link and refocused on the ship. The curvature of the moon was slowly disappearing as they lowered towards the surface.

Athgar was a relatively new Xandarian outpost, within the last ten cycles or so, so Peter didn't expect much trouble from it. Most of the planet was covered in forests and mountains from its ever shifting plate tectonics. So not the most habitable, but full of resources, and thus, useful. Hopefully it'd be useful enough to allow them to get their ship fixed too.

“Hey Quill,” Rocket called from behind him. Peter turned to see him standing in the doorway with a datapad in hand and Groot on his shoulder.

“What's up?” Peter quipped.

“While we're down there, can we pick up some more scraps and shit for me? I'm finding there's less and less of this ship for me to take apart.”

Peter rolled his eyes in exasperation. “For the last time, Rocket, I’m not feeding your sick desire to make potentially fatal bombs on my ship.”

“Hey, there's no potential about it,” Rocket defended, walking up to stand next to him. “They're completely lethal.”

“Exactly my point,” the half-Terran sighed.

Rocket scoffed but let it go, turning back to his datapad. Peter raised an eyebrow curiously. “What’cha doin’ there?” He asked.

“Just checking frequencies,” the mammal replied easily. “Don't want any surprises or nothing from this place.” Peter frowned. “Not that I don't trust the Nova Corps or anything,” he started. “But I don't trust them.”

Peter daughter the urge to roll his eyes into his head. “Must you always be so paranoid?” He exclaimed.

“You call in paranoia, _I_ call it being smart.”

This time Peter was sure his eyes _did_ roll into his head.

“Whatever,” he sighed after a moment, focusing back on the controls. “Just get ready to land, we're almost there.”

“Sure thing, Star-Munch,” the rodent sidled, turning to leave. Peter watched his retreating form, something bubbling up inside that made him want to stop the raccoon.

“Hey, Rocket,” he called out. Rocket stopped and turned back, looking at him expectantly.

Peter worried his lip for a moment while he thought of what he wanted to say. Eventually, he decided. “I’m sorry for accusing you of bombing my room,” he said, voice heavy with sincerity.“I should have believed you when you said it wasn’t you.”

Rocket was almost to the doorway when he’d been stopped, so Peter could barely see his face without angling his body painfully. But he could see the raccoon’s expression slowly soften. It was strange to see the look on him, after making sure he was known as the tough guy of the group. Never one to lower his defenses. Maybe that had changed after Ego. Hell, a lot had changed after Ego, Rocket softening up shouldn’t be that far fetched of a notion.

“I’m sorry I got so defensive,” Rocket said in a small voice, looking down at his paws awkwardly. On his shoulder, Groot blinked curiously, watching the exchange. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did.”

Peter blinked in surprise.

“Wow, I didn’t think I’d hear something like that from you.”

“Shut your face, Quill. Accept the fucking apology,” Rocket snapped.

“Only if you accept mine.”

It was Rocket’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fine, apology accepted, or whatever.”

Peter smirked at the response. “Alright, now get ready to land,” he said, turning back to his controls.

“Alright, Star-Munch."

Peter glanced back to watch him go, ready to be left in peace once again, but froze when he saw something on the datapad. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he cried, standing up.

Rocket frowned as he strode over and leaned down, snatching the datapad from his hands.

“Hey-”

“The datapad,” Peter interrupted, eyes fixed worryingly on it. “What's that?” He pointed to a certain frequency, looking back up at Rocket for clarification.

Rocket frowned and looked down, trying to see what had Peter so worried. A bunch of frequencies and radio waves were playing across it, but one new one was there, and it didn’t look like anyone the Xandarians or the Nova Corps used. And he should know, he hacked them often enough to recognize them.

“Whoa,” he breathed, snatching it back from Quill. He checked it over, trying to see if he recognized it from any other system or race. Unfortunately, he did.

“Shit, that’s Sithien."

Peter frowned. “What the hell’s Sithien?” He asked, at a loss.

“Bad news, that’s what,” Rocket said hurrying over to the controls. “Devoted followers of Thanos. They shouldn’t even be this close to the empire.” He handed Groot off to Peter and jumped into his chair, quickly pulling up his screens and controls.

“Whoa, what are you doing? We need to land,” Peter protested, getting up from where he’d been kneeling. In his arms, Groot started to get scared, not liking their worried tones.

“Not here we don’t,” Rocket shot back, starting to rearrange the ship's course and angle it back towards space.

“We don’t even know if the signal is coming from anywhere nearby. Why don’t we just land and figure it out?” Peter argued.

“Well I’m not taking chances,” Rocket bit out. “Not with Sithiens.” Peter glowered at him before taking his own seat at the controls, wrestling control of the ship back to him.

“Hey!” Rocket protested, realizing what he’d done.

“You’re being stupid, Rocket,” Peter snipped. “We’re landing.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we’re not Quill,” Rocket cried. “You don’t know these guys, they’re bad. Like real bad.”

“How bad?” Peter retorted.

Rocket opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly an explosion rocked the side of the ship and sent them flying.

Peter was sent flying, smacking hard into the metal wall as pain exploded in his side. The breath was knocked out of him immediately, leaving him gasping in pain. His ears were ringing loudly but he still hear the sound of the wind rushing in through what he assumed was the broken hull. The ship was falling, engines hanging on by a thread. This wasn't looking to good. And on top of that, bright orange light filled his vision, even through his closed eyes, and he knew something was on fire.

What the fuck had just happened? Was it those Sithiens Rocket was talking about? Had an engine blown? Whatever it was, Peter knew it wasn’t going to end well for them.

“Fuck,” he swore, pushing himself up. The world tilted dangerously, but he pushed through it, shaking his head to clear it before getting up, using the wall as support. He blinked and looked around the bridge, or what was left of it. A large hole was torn from the side, exposing pipes, wires, beams, metal, and all sorts of stuff. Oh, and it was on fire.

“Quill!” He heard Rocket yell.

Peter blinked and turned his head, spotting Rocket, who was pinned down, one paw sticking out awkwardly and covered in red. Groot stood nearby trying desperately to get them off, but to no avail.

Immediately, Peter rushed forward, ignoring the heat of the encroaching flames, and picked up the machinery that was pinning the raccoon down. The metal was blistering hot, but he ignored it and pushed up, allowing enough room for the mammal to wriggle out.

“We gotta go,” Peter shouted over the wind.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Rocket replied, grabbing Groot and starting to make for the door.

“We need to get to the Milano,” Peter shouted, following him down the hallway. It was less chaotic there, but still crazy, bits of machinery rattling and clanking from the stress of the blast and some pieces flying about altogether. “It’s our only shot of getting off!”

“Are you crazy!” Rocket cried, ducking under a flying pipe.

“Maybe!”

They rounded a corner and crashed into Gamora, who was leading Kraglin and Mantis, Drax nowhere to be seen. Peter fell on his ass at the impact, while Gamora remained unmoved.

“What the hell is happening?” Gamora cried, clinging to the wall as another shock rocked the ship.

“Sithiens,” Rocket replied bitterly. “Must have bombed us.”

“What!”

“No time to explain,” Peter interjected, grabbing into her hand. “We gotta go, now!”

They rushed through the halls again, stumbling and slipping the whole way. Another explosion rocked the ship and Peter fell on his face, Gamora right behind him.

“Why are they shooting at us?” She hissed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up.

“No clue,” he ground out, starting forward again. They were almost to the hanger when the ship suddenly tilted sharply and they descended into a free fall.

They all screamed and scrambled to find a perch. Peter kicked his rocket boots into action and flew through the air, pinning Mantis to the wall before she hit her head on a sharp corner. He saw Gamora latch onto some scaffolding and Kraglin a grate on the floor, but Rocket and Groot were nowhere to be seen.

Then another explosion, this one closer, and a chunk of the ship was torn open, exposing them to the air.

It nearly sucked Peter and Mantis out, but he held firm to his perch. He hoped the others had luck like he did.

But they didn’t.

“Peter!” It was Gamora.

He looked over and saw she was outside of the ship, hanging on to one of the pipes as they fell through the air. The metal was threatening to break free at any moment, ready to send her into the air to fall to her death.

He felt panic well up inside at the sight, and he rushed forward. “Gamora!” He lunged towards her, grabbing onto the nearest stable piece of ship before reaching out to her with an outstretched hand. She reached for it, pulling herself forward on the pipe, but instead of reaching him, the pipe was lodged loose and she slipped further away from him. She screamed.

“No!” He cried, reaching out in an attempt to grab her again.

“Peter, I can’t!” She shouted, somehow still clinging onto her calm and rational side. “If I move it will be knocked loose!”

“I don’t care, just do it!” he shouted back, the panic from before doubling.

“Peter-”

_“Just do it!”_

A look of uncertainty flickered across her face before it resolved into a hard, determined expression. Peter watched with his chest tight as she readied herself. Just before the pipe looked like it would fly loose, she pushed herself off of it and towards him, flying through the air. He stretched his hand out as far as he could, afraid he wouldn’t reach her.

But he did.

He grabbed into her fingers and yanked up, pulling a cry of pain from her at the motion. But at the moment, broken fingers were nothing.

But the ground was still approaching, and it was RIGHT THERE!

“Brace yourselves for impact!” Kraglin shouted. Everyone followed his order and grabbed onto something, covering their heads and faces. Peter did the same, taking Gamora into his arms and sheltering her as best he could. But it wouldn’t be enough. Not nearly.

Then something build up inside him, brought on by the want to protect his friends. It surged through his vines like fire, and fought for an escape. But he didn’t have time to think on that. He had to protect his friends. Save them from the crash. Stop them from being injured.

The last thing Peter saw was a bright white light filling his vision before they crashed into the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave kudos or comments telling me what you think. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm back. Just a little note before this chapter, the aliens that shot down the Guardians last chapter are ones I made up, because of certain reasons that are important and also spoiler-y. The name of them; Sythien, is derived from the word scythian which is a type of re curve bow. I used to work as an archery instructor and the name of that bow sounded really cool and was the one I used most on the range. Anyway, I only mention this because someone in the comments was like ???? what this??? So yeah.
> 
> Also, some Peter whump in this chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!

Gamora came to with a pounding headache and a mouth full of bitter dirt. She was laying face down in the ground, limbs splayed in an awkward, uncomfortable position, promising stiff pain if she tried to move. Perhaps that’s what had woken her up.

Gamora groaned. What the hell had happened? Peter announced on the comm that they were preparing to land on Athgar-5  and to get ready. They were there to fix the _Milano_. But then…

They had been shot down, she remembered. What had Rocket called the ones who'd attacked them? Siphon? Sythen? Something along those lines. The name rang a bell, but through her foggy mind and the pulsating pain in her body, she couldn't recall why.

Sitting up, she spat out the grit in her mouth. A racking cough followed the action, and continued for longer than she thought was healthy. At long last though, her chest stopped heaving and was replaced with a dull ache. Hopefully nothing was broken. Although, judging by the crash she’d just endured, she would have thought she would have polytrauma. But at the moment, nothing hurt, too badly at least. But then again, that could be the adrenaline.

Gingerly, she picked herself up again, this time able to get a view of her surroundings. She was in a large blast crater, forest, rocks, and dirt all leveled in a half mile radius, like an asteroid had hit. But there was little to no ship detritus to be seen, as if it had all disintegrated on impact or was pushed even further away by the impact, which would be weird seeing as it  _ was _ the impact. A crater like this couldn’t have been made without it. But still, as she continued looking, there was next to no sign of the _Eclector_. It was almost as if the crater was caused by another force. Odd.

A light groan behind her had her whipping around and on her feet in no time.

“Mantis!” She cried, spotting the girl a few yards away, clothes filthy but otherwise appearing to be unharmed. She rushed towards her and was at her side in an instant.

She helped the girl up, still careful to avoid direct contact out of paranoia. “Are you alright?” She asked.

“I think so,” she replied, rubbing her head tenderly. Gamora could see a bruise forming there, but she wasn’t too worried about it. “What happened? I thought we would have died.”

“I don’t know,” Gamora admitted. “By all accounts, we should be.”

It wasn’t a comforting thought, but it was a logical one, and that was all Gamora could afford herself at the moment.

Mantis looked around, confused. “Where is everyone else?”

Gamora hadn’t even thought of that. Swiveling around, she looked around the crater, trying to spot any bodies or wreckage that she knew would mean her friends were there. But the only thing she saw was a man laying in the dirt. It was Peter. And the strangest part, he was laying in the exact center of the crater. She frowned, but shook it off quickly. They had more important things to deal with.

“Well, there’s Peter,” she said. She turned back to Mantis, giving her another once over to check for anything she might have missed, not wanting to risk anything with her. “Alright,” she said. “I’m going to go check on Peter, are you okay to stay here without me?” She asked. Mantis nodded her head yes. Gamora let out a quick sigh and got up to run over to Peter.

She skid to a halt beside him, landing roughly on her knees. His skin was pale and ashy, making her heart jump with fear. Oh god, was he dead? No, he was Peter Jason Quill, he was to stubborn to die.

“Peter,” she said carefully, reaching out to check his pulls. His skin was warm to the touch, like any living persons would be, but bodies didn't immediately turn cold upon death. That was something Gamora knew all too well. That thought, coupled with his appearance, made Gamora’s stomach clench with fear.

But as if to grant her wish, she suddenly felt a weak pulse beneath her fingers, fluttering just under the skin. He was only unconscious.

“He’s okay!” She called back to Mantis. She didn’t receive a direct response, but she was sure the young alien was glad. Turning back to him, she checked him over for any serious injury. He had burns on his hands and a gash on his head, but other than that, he seemed okay. But that didn't mean he didn't have any internal damage. And she wouldn't know of any until he woke up.

“Peter,” she said, shaking his shoulder. She received no response. She growled in frustration. She tried again to wake him up, shaking harder this time, but still careful not to be too rough in case she hurt him more than he was. “Peter!”

It was a long few moments, in which she held her breath. If he didn’t wake up… no, she wouldn’t think like that. She  _ couldn’t _ think like that. They had to find the others, and she had to take of Mantis. She couldn’t afford to let doubt control her now.

Suddenly, a low groan emitted from Peter, and his eyelids flickered slightly, opening just enough so she could see him looking around him blearily.

“Peter!” She cried, “Peter, can you look at me, can you hear me?”

He seemed dazed and disoriented for a moment, eyes roaming around slowly before settling on her, and from then it looked like he was trying to focus on her, as if he couldn’t quite make her out and was trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

“G’mora?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s me,” she said, relief flowing into her veins.

“You’re alive,” he sighed, a small smile tweaking his lips up playfully.

“Yeah, I’m alive, thanks to you,” she said, feeling her own smile start to form.

His smile soon disappeared to be replaced with a frown as he turned his head to look around the blast crater. She saw him slowly take in his surroundings, and watched as confusion filled his expression.

“Where is everyone?” He asked weakly.

“Mantis is over there,” she said, gesturing to the empath, who was sitting where Gamora had left her. “I didn’t see anyone else.”

Peter frowned, as much as he could in his state anyways. He continued to look around for a moment before his eyes started to slide shut again. That couldn’t happen. She had to keep him awake until she knew the extent of his injuries. And he could have a serious concussion, so sleeping was not happening on her watch anyways.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” she urged, cupping his face with one hand, holding onto his shoulder with the other. “I need you to stay awake, Peter.”

He blinked up at her, the expression on his face telling her he was processing her words, but eventually gave a slow nod.

“Okay, I need to know if you’re hurt,” she said, using her firm, in-command voice she used when explaining plans or chastising Groot because he said a bad word. “Does anything hurt?”

“M’ head,” he mumbled. Gamora frowned, that was obvious enough.

“Anything else?” She asked. Then, moving her hand down from his shoulder, she pressed against his abdomen. “Does it hurt if I do this?”

“No,” he mumbled again. She continued pressing lightly across his abdomen until she’d covered all the vital organs that could have been damaged. Nothing seemed to be wrong there. She continued onto his legs. The next thing to worry about was spinal injury.

“Can you feel this?” She asked, running her hand across his thigh. He nodded weakly. “Does anything tingle?”

He paused, as if thinking. “Yeah.”

Gamora felt her heart stop. And start. And stop again. Tingling meant spinal injury. Or nerve damage. And as far as she knew, Terran nerve cells weren’t easy to heal, even if they got attention immediately, which was looking less and less likely the more time passes. This wasn’t good. This  _ really _ wasn’t good.

Finally, she swallowed her fear and asked in a steady, firm voice, “Where?”

“Everywhere?”

Wait, what?

“Are you sure?” She asked. Another pause.

“Yeah,” he said in a slurred voice. “S’like my skin’s a bug zapper.”

She didn’t know what a bug zapper was, but the fact the it was his  _ skin  _ that was tingling... That wasn’t like any nerve damage she knew about. Maybe it was something else, some injury only a human could get. Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn’t serious and wouldn’t last.

“Alright,” she said, trying to gather herself and form a plan. They had to get out of the open and find shelter as soon as possible. The guys that shot them down might show up again, and the worst thing for them was to be caught unprepared, which was what they were just then. “Okay, we need to get out of here,” she decided. “Can you stand?” It was a far fetched hope, but she might as well ask.

“Don’t think so,” he slurred. Gamora sighed. Oh well. She was strong enough to carry him.

“Mantis,” she called, whipping around. The girl looked up from where she sat, tending to a bleeding cut. “We have to get out of her and find shelter. Those guys might show up again. And we still have to find everyone else.”

Mantis nodded in agreement and made her way over to them.

Slowly, so as not to jar him, Gamora lifted Peter into her arms. He groaned slightly, but didn’t make a fuss or complain, which was very uncharacteristic of him. He didn’t even crack a joke about how romantic the situation might be, for which she would roll her eyes and pretend to ignore him. No, instead he looked about to fall asleep again. Which was both odd and worrisome. It was only a concussion, wasn’t it? But he looked drained, his face ashen like it had been on Ego’s planet when they’d just rescued him from his father. She didn’t like seeing him like this. Not again.

_ ‘Peter Quill,’  _ she thought to herself.  _ ‘What have you done to yourself?’ _


	8. Chapter 8

Rocket didn’t like their situation one bit. First the ship was crashing, then he got separated from the group, then he was flying through the air with a baby Groot tucked under an arm, praying he didn’t die. And by some miracle, he didn’t. But the miracle was long lived because it turned out to be one of the ships that had attacked them stopping his fall with a tractor beam. So now he was a prisoner to some Sythien scum. And man, if the first time dealing with these a-holes was, bad, he was in for a treat.

They had flown him to some base and shoved off the ship roughly, blindfolded, and then walked through the compound before the mask was tugged unceremoniously off his face and he was pushed into a grimy, cramped cell. He waited there on the floor until he heard the guard walk away before mumbling “Jackass’s.”

Rocket got up onto his knees and brushed himself off, not that it did much, but he felt better for it. Groot peeked out from where he’d been hiding and looked up at him with a small, scared expression that broke his heart.

“I am Groot?” He asked in a small voice.

“No Groot, they won’t kill us,” he assured the sapling. “They just don’t like us, that’s why we’re in a cell.” He hoped his half truths would comfort Groot, ‘cause he knew they weren’t doing it for him.

“I am Groot,” he said in a confident voice.

Rocket offered a strained smile in return. “Yeah, they’ll rescue us, no doubt,” he said, referring to the rest of the guardians. Groot gave a content nod before burrowing back into Rocket’s arms.

Rocket though, wasn’t as convinced they would come. He’d seen the crash from where he’d been “saved”, and it wasn’t pretty. The _ Eclector _ had smashed into a wooded area of the planet before being engulfed in a large ball of white light, blinding the raccoon momentarily. No one could have survived that. And even if someone had, how would they even know to  _ look _ for Rocket? Or even  _ where _ to look. It wasn’t like these Sythien a-holes broadcasted where their base was, or even that they had one. As far as the rest of the team was aware, these guys were an anomaly.

But not to Rocket. If Sythien were here, the moon was taken. Because that’s what they did. Conquered shit for no reason and didn’t let any news of it get out so no one knew anything had happened. They even hijacked the outgoing transmissions so it remained normal and didn’t raise any red flags. Rocket had to give it to them, for a dumb species, they were pretty smart where it counted.

“Not smarter than me, though,” he grinned wickedly, already forming an escape plan. Let’s see how long these a-holes could keep Rocket. He had escaped twenty three prisons, this one wouldn’t be any different.

“You Thanos loving fucks are in for treat,” he muttered, already searching through the cell for things that would help. He’d be out of here soon, he knew it.

 

***

 

Peter woke up for the second time somewhere dark and warm. He was laying on a relatively hard surface and had something draped over him in a makeshift blanket, from the texture of it he assumed it was his coat. His head throbbed lightly and his sides ached. Gingerly, he flexed his fingers and found they were covered in makeshift bandages. Then the rational, conscience part of his brain kicked in and he panicked for a second because he had no idea how he’d gotten there. He’d been with Rocket on the _Eclector_ , there’d been a weird signal, Rocket had freaked out, the ship was crashing- oh God, GAMORA!

She had fallen out of the ship, but he’d grabbed her, hadn’t he? God, he hoped he did. Then something came back to him, easing his conscience slightly. It was fuzzy, but he remembered waking up in a large crater with Gamora over him. She had been questions, poking him, and maybe something else. She had been worried. But she was alive. That was all that mattered. But  _ he’d _ been so tired, and his head had been screaming at him, so it had been hard to concentrate. He remembered vaguely her picking him up, but that was about where the memories stopped. Maybe he’d passed out. Oh God, how embarrassing. Way to go, Quill, passing out in front of your crush. Great job there, buddy.

Groaning at himself, and shifted in his spot, intending to get up, before his headache came back with a vengeance. He moaned and reached up to rub it, careful to avoid the goose egg he felt growing on his forehead. Yeah, that wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” someone said above him.

Peter opened his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to find Gamora sitting over him with a half smile painted on her face.

“Gamora,” he managed. “What’s up?” Peter winced at how lame that sounded.  _ ‘Really Quill, what’s up? That’s the best you got?’ _

“Well, you, for one,” she noted, reaching over and removing his hand from where he was rubbing his sore head, looking at the wound herself, inspecting it. She gave a small hum of satisfaction before letting go and sitting back on her heels next to him. She looked like a child in that position, small and inocent.

“Are you feeling better?” She asked. If that meant better than when he could hardly remember waking up the first time, then yes. Peter gave a small nod. “Good,” she smiled.

“Hey, uh, where are we? What happened? How are we alive?” He asked, starting to get up, but giving up when a wave of dizziness came over him. So, laying down it was. Once he was back down, he squirmed  to get a better look around. It was a pointless effort, for all he could see was darkness and a small crackling fire about ten feet off. It didn’t cast much light either, so it helped little in identifying his surroundings.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “By all accounts that crash should have killed us. But it didn’t.” She paused, looking down at her hands as if they might hold the answers. “I can’t explain it.”

Peter frowned, thinking. He remembered a bright light, and then waking up in a crater, nothing else. It frustrated him to no end.

“So where are we now? I remember a crater.”

“Somewhere on Athgar-5,” she replied. “After we got shot down, Mantis and I looked for some shelter in case those guys came back to finish the job. I found a small cave in some cliffs, so that’s where we are now.”

“Great, spelunking, that always was on my bucket list,” he joked. Gamora in turn just gave him an odd look. Peter let out a sigh, humor was lost on her. “Nevermind,” he sighed, dismissing himself. Gamora only shrugged in response.

“Hey, where’s Mantis?” He asked, just now noticing he hadn’t seen her anywhere.

“I sent her out to get some more wood for the fire,” she stated. Then, in a somewhat guilty voice, “And because I still don’t want her touching me.”

A small snort escaped Peter before he could stop it. Gamora reacted quickly with a sharp glare aimed at him, daring him to say anything about it. He wisely decided to keep his mouth shut

The two fell into silence for a few moments after. The fire crackled weakly behind them, throwing off feeble light that allowed Peter to see Gamora’s expression twist into one of deep thought.

“Do you remember what Rocket called those things that shot us down?” Gamora suddenly asked, frowning. Peter pursed his lips in thought.

“Yeah,” he said. “He called them ‘Sythien’. It sounded like he knew who they were.”

“Wait, Sythien?” Gamora gasped.

“Yeah, why?”

“Shit,” Gamora hissed, standing up and starting to pace. “Shit, shit, SHIT!”

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked slowly, propping himself up on an elbow as unease started to creep up inside him. Gamora was always calm and collected. Seeing her freak out meant that they were in REALLY deep shit.

“I knew I recognized the name, but I was hoping I was wrong,” she said, clenching and unclenching her fists desperately.

“So what are they?” Peter asked, looking at her with apprehension.

Gamora huffed angrily, blowing a strand of hair out of her face forcefully. She took another deep breath to collect herself before speaking. When she did, her voice was filled with the same venom it was when she spoke of her father, Thanos. “They’re puppets of Thanos,” she bit out. “No one really knows about them because they keep a low profile.” That would explain why Peter had never heard of them. But Rocket did. Once they found that fur ball he was going to asking a LOT of questions. But Gamora continued talking, breaking Peter’s inner monologue.

“Thanos only ever uses them if he needed materials or slaves,” she explained. “He’d send them out to some planet or other and they’d take over. It’d be quiet and over before you knew it. And you never hear about it happening because they hijack all communications going off planet as well as kill anyone trying to leave.” She took a deep breath to collect herself before going on. “If they’re here, that means this moon is conquered. There’s no way off.”

“So…” Peter said, trailing off. He didn’t want to say what was on his mind, but luckily he didn’t have to, because Gamora did it for him.

“We are going to die here.”

Yup, right on the money.


End file.
